


Those eyes are my weakness, so don't use them against me

by Galrafloofandlove



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Galra Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) is a Good Boyfriend, Kinda, M/M, Nightmares, Partial Nudity, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Who needs shirts anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 01:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16903248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galrafloofandlove/pseuds/Galrafloofandlove
Summary: In his life, they had always been something good to distract from the bad. Even something mildly happy to combat the most extreme sadness, eventually fading into nothing more than a dull ache in his chest at the direct memory.Being diagnosed at age four, being told there wasn't any possible way he'd live past thirty? At least he still had a happy family and loving parents who would help him with the illness.Then his parents died at age six. Alright, fine, that meant he had to go live with his uncle in the States, and perhaps he'd actually get into a space academy- be seen as more than his illness.Age eighteen, his uncle passed. The silver lining was he had been accepted into the Garrison.His illness started to take over his arm- he was quickly losing control. His fiance stormed out on him, he was being heavily encouraged not to go to Kerberos, not to do the only thing he'd ever fucking wanted since his parents passed-But he didn't lose hope. Not even then. He'd get to see the stars before he succumbed to his illness. His last wish would be fulfilled.All hope was slowly, painfully drained out of him in the gladiator pits.





	Those eyes are my weakness, so don't use them against me

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't actually posted a coping fic in a while...and I haven't posted any from trauma coping. 
> 
> Well uh. Here you go! 
> 
> Unbeta'd, you know the drill. It's midnight and I should probably at least try to sleep now.

There's no silver lining to his situation. Not one he can find, anyway. 

In his life, they had always been something good to distract from the bad. Even something mildly happy to combat the most extreme sadness, eventually fading into nothing more than a dull ache in his chest at the direct memory.  
Being diagnosed at age four, being told there wasn't any possible way he'd live past thirty? At least he still had a happy family and loving parents who would help him with the illness.  
Then his parents died at age six. Alright, fine, that meant he had to go live with his uncle in the States, and perhaps he'd actually get into a space academy- be seen as more than his illness.  
Age eighteen, his uncle passed. The silver lining was he had been accepted into the Garrison.  
His illness started to take over his arm- he was quickly losing control. His fiance stormed out on him, he was being heavily encouraged not to go to Kerberos, not to do the only thing he'd ever fucking wanted since his parents passed-

But he didn't lose hope. Not even then. He'd get to see the stars before he succumbed to his illness. His last wish would be fulfilled. 

All hope was slowly, painfully drained out of him in the gladiator pits. 

At first, he believed he could beat everything they could throw at him, then he'd been freed.  
Wishful goddamn thinking. 

He'd slaughtered what felt like millions- their blood still staining him long after the cold water washed it down the drain, along with the mix of sweat, dirt, mud, tears, and sometimes, his own dark red blood seeping from the cuts. 

He was supposed to be a champion. He was supposed to kill and feel zero remorse for the innocent he was forced to kill for the enjoyment of the crowds.  
He was told if he refused to fight, it would end up being worse than his current arrangement.  
Bile rose up in his throat everytime he remembered those words, the tone filled with nothing but cockiness and a light smirk across Sendak's lips. 

“The Champion has a new challenger!” Sendak announced to the stadium, his voice booming throughout the packed crowd as Shiro flinched at the use of the name “Champion” directed at him. Usually Sendak sat back to watch the fights take place in the ring, so something...special must have been happening for him to be announcing, a spot usually reserved for a low ranking officer. Shiro visibly shuttered, gripping the flimsy blade he'd been given in his flesh hand- he refused to use the metal one. He still didn't know how it even worked. 

“A hybrid has voluntarily taken up a spot to fight the Champion.” Little hushes erupted from the audience at that statement. Hybrids were nothing new to him- he should be able to take this one no problem, then bathe himself in freezing cold water and wonder how long it will take for him to wash the blood off his soul. 

“Son of a Human-” Even more soft whispers filled the otherwise silent arena, and Shiro's heart skipped a single beat at hearing the word human, not in reference to him, for the first time in nearly a year. “-and a Galra.” The sentence was finished quickly as Sendak grunted to silence the audience, before nodding to the control room to lower the gate at the other end of pit. 

The second the gate was opened, glowing, bright yellow eyes caught Shiro's attention. They….looked familiar. They didn't have an iris, or a pupil, but they reminded him of somebody back home- somebody back on Earth. A distant, suppressed memory tugged at the back of his brain. He chose to ignore it as he stepped forward, holding the blade tightly in his hold, his body shimmering with sweat. 

The hybrid lunged at him, without hesitation. Shiro dodged out of the way. 

It felt like he was back at the Garrison sparring with- 

“Shiro.” 

His name was vicious, spilling out like poison from the hybrid's mouth- 

From Keith's mouth. 

Keith, somehow, was standing in front in him in a battle stance, a shiny blade in front of his face spilling the view in half. His eyes were lifeless, lacking any feeling or the familiar shine Shiro loved. Instead, the yellow sclera consumed his vision, an unbreakable sea of yellow devouring his thoughts. 

All too soon, before Shiro could even process everything, Keith had him in a chokehold, the knife pressed against his neck. 

“I'm going to enjoy this…” Keith smiles coldly down on him, blade pressing just enough to leave a mark. 

Shiro closed his eyes and waited for it to happen. He was going to die because Keith was going to kill him. He was going to die because the blade is digging deeper into the crease of his neck and-

“Takashi!”  
A thundering voice brought him back. 

His eyes shot open, his entire body flying up in a sitting position so that he could breathe.  
He was hyperventilating- and God, his throat is so dry and sore and his head was pounding and his shirt was soaked with sweat- 

“Takashi, are you here?” The same voice asked, lighter, softer this time. Another hand held his own, rubbing the skin in between his thumb and forefinger lightly. “Deep breaths, Takashi.” 

He says his name like it's a gift that he's been graced with from the heavens above, he says it like it's the only thing that matters in the universe. 

The way he repeats his name in that delicate tone allows Shiro to relax enough to comply with the loose command. 

There's a hand in his back helping him through it, and the gentle massage to his hand continues as he breathes.  
It becomes easier soon enough. 

He's back down to Earth, back to reality. 

Keith gives him a soft smile as he reaches for a glass on the nightstand, picking up the violet reusable straw they always kept next to the water glass. 

“Here. Drink.” It's more of a command this time, as Keith puts the straw into the liquid and holds the glass firmly in front of Shiro's lips. 

Shiro obeyed the order, wrapping his chapped lips around the plastic of the straw- and he has to admit, the water feels so good. It's cold and it's refreshing and it's everything he could have ever wanted at this moment. 

It was their usual routine- nothing changed, nothing different thrown in. The only difference was that he'd never had this nightmare- or anything like it, for that matter. 

“You okay now?” Keith asked, moving the glass away and setting it back on the nightstand.  
“Yeah.” Even with the water, his voice was merely a squeak. He wondered if he had been yelling. “N'ver had that one be'for.”  
“We can talk about it if you want.” Keith offered with a light shrug, while Shiro shook his head.  
That was all the answer Keith needed, and he moved onto the sweat sticking to Shiro's chest, causing the tank top he was wearing to attach onto his skin. 

Keith traced the vessels on his neck down to his chest, where he carefully outlined the shape of Shiro's abs with his finger before attempting to pull the cloth off.  
“Let's get you out of this. It's soaked.” Keith added, watching as Shiro happily did such, leaving his bare chest, littered with battle scars, right in front of his partner. 

Keith observed for a minute or two, before ditching his own t-shirt in favor of dotting the bunched fabric along the beads of sweat around his Shiro's bicep and neck. 

Keith smirked as he turned the lamp off, leaving them bathed in darkness. Shiro just smiled and spread out on the king-sized mattress, while Keith wrapped himself onto Shiro's bare chest, his head resting just so he could hear Shiro's heartbeat and place tiny kisses on a particularly large incision scar. 

Shiro still hated his scars- especially the ones caused by the witch. But with Keith, he could trust him. Keith was always gentle, running kisses all over his bruised and battered chest. 

Keith made a low hum in his throat as he closed his eyes.  
“Night 'kashi.” Keith muttered, stifling a yawn  
“Goodnight, Baby. Thanks.” Shiro placed a kiss on the top of Keith's head, the ebony roots parting for the loving gesture.  
“Love you.” Keith said before he passed out cold, still laying on Shiro's chest, enjoying the rocking of the rise and fall of Shiro's breathing.  
“Love you. Forever and always.”

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> [Tumblr](https://galrafloofandlove.tumblr.com)! || [Twitter](https://twitter.com/GalraFloof)


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